


Pantomime

by lightningwaltz



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Content, Slight topping from the bottom, trying to connect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/pseuds/lightningwaltz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Mamiya experiences a brief flash of contrition, but a playful section starts in the symphony, and mirth overcomes everything else. Maybe it’s because Ariga’s hair is damp and loose, for once, and that means he looks his age. Maybe it’s because it’s hard for anyone to look intimidating in a bath robe.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pantomime

**Author's Note:**

> Mamiya and Ariga have a really interesting relationship to me. Calenlass_Greenleaf and I have talked about how, prior to them, pretty much all messiah pairs have strong feelings about each other (positive or negative) from the get go. And then you have these two who like each other (or, at least, don't dislike each other) but who also struggle to connect a lot of the time. Cal and I are also interested in the idea of them sleeping together pretty early on- because, hey, there's UST and it's permitted anyway- and both of them getting into it partially because they don't have to worry about talking quite as much during the act. 
> 
> I kind of wrote most of this fic in a rush of a feeling today, too. I think Hagane is going to be a devastating gamechanger in a lot of ways, and I wanted to vent some of my kouhai-related emotions.

Mamiya watches Ariga’s back as he exits the practice room. As usual, he doesn't say goodbye or anything like it. It’s tempting to wonder if he’s bitter that Mamiya actually won their sparring session today, but he doesn’t think so. Ariga has never struck Mamiya as vindictive, for one. Furthermore, someone out there had made sure Ariga was an expert in weapons at a very young age. It also seems as though that same person never bothered to teach Ariga about the etiquette of greetings and farewells. It makes Mamiya sad more than anything else.

Yuuri won against Shirasaki today, too. They’d teased each other a bit about it, and Mamiya had taken second-hand happiness in the friendliness of their conversation. He can’t really envy them, since he has a good idea of what they’ve been through. Until quite recently, their voices had once contained evidence of strain and lingering guilt. No longer. 

When their messiahs have left the practice room, Yuuri reaches for his bottle of green tea, and uses it to take a pill. He always tries to hide doing this, but it clicks against his teeth before being swallowed. This is another thing that’s changed. Before, Shirasaki would relax visibly whenever Yuuri took this medicine. Now he seems to trust him to do this on his own.

“We’re getting a lot better at this, aren’t we?” 

Mamiya thinks about it, and realizes that this is true. “We definitely are. You were great today.”

Yuuri favors him with a very specific, very shy smile. It’s one that carries a great deal of meaning for Mamiya. He’d first witnessed it on that day they’d organized a series of files, and, in the process, had had a rather revealing conversation. Yuuri has a “loud” demeanor (one of the loudest Mamiya has ever seen), and his words often match his posture and how he carries himself. But that grin has always been unexpected and impossible to predict. When he saw it, he’d abruptly understood some things about Yuuri, and that led to understanding pieces of Mamoru, as well. 

_Yes_ , he decides, after he and Yuuri part for the afternoon. _I really do think things are getting better._

In a lot of ways, the four of them are like a string quartet. Once, he had tried to decide who had the temperament for which instrument (or, rather, which instrument’s stereotype), but he could never make up his mind on everyone. Though he’s pretty sure Ariga would make a good violist, in another life. 

All he knows for sure, is that they all have different functions, and sometimes they fall out of harmony. But not even the most talented group of musicians can play a difficult song right away. They rehearse, and they take notes, until suddenly everything is simpler than breathing.

Mamiya has this in mind when he returns to his room. He’s in a quixotic mood, and wants to try to engaging Ariga in an actual extended conversation. But he opens their door, and finds his messiah is gone. Sighing- though not particularly discouraged- Mamiya picks up his phone, scrolls to his classical music selection, and picks something at random. 

And then he regrets it. 

Listening to Ravel can be quite dangerous. For Mamiya this has been a basic fact of his life for some time now, even if he’s nearly forgotten this in light of more demanding things. 

It’s not just that this symphony is a lush and verdant experience (though it is). It’s not that it’s a piece of music that builds and retreats, builds and retreats (though that’s true, too.) It’s perilous because it actively makes Mamiya _want_ things he has no business wanting. It makes him want to have fun in a forest glade with a lover. It makes him want to delight in straightforward emotions like infatuation or jealousy. 

Even more dangerous than Ravel, is the duet between Ravel and Mamiya's post-exercise high. There’s a kind of madcap, self-satisfied energy sparking through his muscles and heart. Though he’s rarely felt more awake, but he also thinks it would be nice to sink down into his comforter. Just let this music, and this energy embrace and disassemble him for a little while. He’ll come back better than he was before, he’s sure.

There’s a moment in Daphnis et Chloé where most of the musicians must have _pianissimo_ written in their scores. It allows him to hear Ariga walking down the hallway, drawing closer, fresh from the shower. Fearlessness makes Mamiya rise from his bed, buoyant with something he can’t name, intercepting Ariga just as he opens the door. 

“Oh, sorry,” Mamiya says, when they bump into each other. His mp3 player flies out of his hand, but Ariga catches it without looking. Impressive. The earbuds remain in place, and Ravel’s harmonies play on. “I didn’t realize you were right there.” 

“That makes no sense.” Ariga returns the phone to Mamiya, in a gesture as forthright as his disbelief. “I’m sure you heard me. I know that much about you.” Ariga taps his own ear. He’s had this exact expression before, when their _senpai_ made them practice interrogating.

“Um.” Mamiya experiences a brief flash of contrition, but a playful section starts in the symphony, and mirth overcomes everything else. Maybe it’s because Ariga’s hair is damp and loose, for once, and that means he looks his age. Maybe it’s because it’s hard for anyone to look intimidating in a bath robe. “Okay, you caught me.” 

“Did something happen?” 

Oh, damn. If Mamiya can hear many of the things people wish to hide, then Ariga's skilled at identifying all the possible threats in his environment. And Mamiya eagerly meeting him at the doorway is definitely unusual. Surprise was definitely the goal, here, but he didn't want to cause nervousness.

“No, it’s not like that, I just....” A few droplets of water slip from Ariga’s hair, landing on the back of Mamiya’s hand. He licks them away, without really thinking about it. When he _does_ think about it, all the endorphins in his body seem to concentrate in to his head. Since it’s already more than a little weird, he decides to go for it. Mamiya leans forward, and gives Ariga a kiss. It could probably be classified as chaste, except it lingers for far too long. 

“I see,” Ariga says, clearing his throat a little, after they part. 

“So, nothing bad happened.” Mamiya looks down at his phone, and readjusts the brightness of the screen. “It was kind of the opposite.”

“Wait, so… You want to…? Right now?” Ariga asks.

“That would be nice. We have a few hours before we’re needed anywhere.” 

They sound like two new roommates discussing how to arrange their room. Actually, Mamiya knows they’ve definitely had much more passionate discussions about furniture. 

He’s about to say that this was all a whim, and Ariga shouldn’t be beholden to it. But then he’s yanked forward. Ariga’s arms wrap around him, and Mamiya’s pulled into a much stronger kiss. His phone is still in his hand, still filtering music to Mamiya. He turns the volume up as loud as it will go, and he’s swept away on a crescendo and the movements of their lips. 

Mamiya undoes the sash on Ariga’s robe, and then he pulls everything _down_. His hands slide over the rigid angles of Ariga’s body. A significant part of him enjoys the contrast between the two of them; one entirely naked, the other entirely clothed. 

He starts weighing the merits of staying dressed and getting Ariga off first, but then there’s a hand reaching into Mamiya’s pants and he scraps the idea for the moment. By now he knows what Ariga’s fingers are capable of doing- what the rest of him is capable of doing- and he needs much more than this.

So he pauses his music, the sudden lack of it hitting him like a slap. When he grabs Ariga’s wrist and pushes his hand away, the loss of that also aches. He rapidly discards articles of clothing, somehow growing more confident the more skin he reveals. Ariga’s eyes dart this way and that, like this is something he isn’t meant to see. But when Mamiya is equally naked, Ariga grabs him again, steering him into the bed with the same determination he shows in their mock battles. Here, though, there’s no fear of losing, or hope of winning. There’s only the thrill of being picked up, and then thrown down. It never seems to hurt Mamiya, not even when they fight. (He files that thought away for later; apparently he’s not the only one who holds back.)

This is far from their first time doing this, and it shows in how they no longer struggle to guess what the other likes. Ariga knows to pin Mamiya’s hands above his head, so that he’s drawn as tight as any violin string. Mamiya knows to slide his fingers over Ariga’s abdomen, lightly, until he almost writhes. Then he digs those same fingers into Ariga’s skin, rocking side-to-side, in a vibrato motion.

“What’s this,” Ariga asks today, tracing his thumb over a very faint depression below Mamiya’s chin. 

Coherent though already seems far away. Mamiya has to touch his own neck to remember, and Ariga’s eyes follow the motion.

“Ah. Right. That’s from playing the violin.”

“Huh. I’ve wondered about it a lot.”

But apparently he had never asked. Oh well. Now Ariga’s question has been answered. It’s funny, actually. Each time they sleep together, they learn far more than they do in a whole week’s worth of conversations. Mamiya learned a while that it’s satisfying to grab onto Ariga’s cock the way he’s doing now. His messiah is stronger than anyone so young has the right to be. All the same, this careful, practiced motion from Mamiya induces a kind of rapt, aching vulnerability in Ariga. Few people get to experience this. Nor do they get to hear Ariga demanding (almost pleading) to get to do even more. 

And yet,when Ariga first moves inside of Mamiya, it’s not a moment of instant ecstasy for either of them. If anything, their bodies grapple in confusion, just as they often grapple for words. They probably should have waited longer, prepared each other a bit more. But ever since they were partnered together, they’ve been fast where they should be slow, and slow where they should be fast. 

“This is uncomfortable for you, isn’t it?” Sometimes, Mamiya thinks he has sex with Ariga just for the pleasure of hearing his voice like this. Raw and hungry. All his well-honed discipline dissolving into the movements of their bodies. The sound of it slams into Mamiya hard. Much harder than the movement of Ariga’s hips. He’ll remember everything about this, even after they revert to awkward politeness.

“A little, but that happens. We’ll get there.” He wonders what Ariga hears in Mamiya’s voice. Does he pay attention to that at all? Or does he notice the other things he’s doing? Maybe he’s preoccupied by Mamiya’s palms sliding down Ariga’s back, his thighs pressing hard into Ariga’s sides, his feet pushing down into the mattress. 

“Hold on,” Ariga orders, and Mamiya is too far gone to be able to tell if he means it literally or figuratively. “I think I remember… from the last time.” 

Then he’s lifting Mamiya’s hips, fast and sudden. It changes the angle just enough that he starts hitting the spot that always grabs moans right out of Mamiya. It makes his vision blur, makes his mouth dry up. Everything he touches seems too soft to hold onto. It decimates nearly all his senses, until his hearing is truly the only one that retains any of its power. 

“Yeah,” Mamiya agrees, locking his shins against Ariga. “You remembered, alright.”

Ariga makes the same movement again and the sensation seems to double. _I love you. I love you I love you I love you,_ Mamiya thinks, and bites onto his hand to keep from moaning it out loud. Because it’s not true, yet. His mind is trying to put a name to this level of lust, and his heart is trying to express appreciation for Ariga attentive nature. But, in the end, this is so much more complicated than love. 

“So it’s good?”

It almost hurts to crack up like this, but he can’t help it. It’s worth it for the way the laughter undulates between the two of them, and Ariga makes a sound of amusment and arousal all at once.

“ _Yes_. It’s good. It’s _great_ , Ariga.” 

_Now go harder._

He doesn't need to say this, either. Maybe the demand is obvious in the way Mamiya’s lower body rises to meet every thrust. Maybe it’s obvious in how he leaves scratch marks on Ariga’s shoulders. Their tempo heightens almost immediately, and for a long stretch of time it’s all there is. There are no thoughts piling up, turning into worry and overthinking. There’s just this. The way they move together. The way they try to give the other a fleeting kind of joy in a world that’s full of loss and hurt. 

Ariga’s face is beside Mamiya head, sometimes turning to bite or lick an overly sensitive ear. He doesn’t say anything. As they near the end, Mamiya buries his hands in Ariga’s hair, finding that it’s still damp. Whether it’s from the shower or from sweat, he couldn’t say. 

“Hey,” Mamiya says, his voice so rough it might shatter. He tugs at those dark strands, forcing Ariga to face him. “Hey, _look_ at me.” He holds on even harder. Suddenly this is the most important thing to him. “You see me, right?” It’s something he wonders all the time. Not just in this moment. 

Now that he’s been ordered to do so, Ariga’s eyes are scouring Mamiya’s face like he could never look anywhere else. Mamiya thinks he hears him start to say _Seiren_ , but Ariga doesn’t quite get there. In a way, it’s a relief. That might be too much to bear.

“Yeah.” Ariga leans down until their unsteady lips meet. That’s a surprise. Generally, they give up on kissing once all the clothes have come off. “Trust me, I’m never forgetting this.” 

They stare and stare during the remainder of this encounter. They stare until Ariga comes, and that makes his gaze retreat inside himself. But Mamiya is still present. Still able to watch every little detail of Ariga's climax. 

_I caused this_ , he thinks, watching Ariga, touching himself desperately to finish this. Just before he reaches his own orgasm, he realizes this is yet another thing he’ll remember this for the rest of his life. 

And then they’re done. 

And then Ariga leaves Mamiya’s bed, apologizing for the way they’ve messed it up.

Mamiya shrugs it off. Instead, he gets his phone, removes the earbuds, and lets Daphnis et Chloé fill the room.

He can’t really tell what Ariga thinks of it, but he doesn’t tell him to turn it off. He doesn’t leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Mamiya is listening to this song; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHrstmOPKBQ
> 
> It's weirdly sexy, okay?!


End file.
